NLTZ: Return to Sunnydale
by Shannon K
Summary: This is an story about Xander having to briefly return to Sunnydale when his father is killed. This takes place between No Longer the Zeppo 1 and 2. Read and review please!
1. Chapter 1

No Longer the Zeppo: Return to Sunnydale

By Shannon K

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters from BTVS and KTE. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public school system. Any characters you don't readily recognize from the shows belong to me. I promise to return Xander and other characters eventually, though they will be a bit scuffed.

A/N: This is an interlude-type story that takes place between No Longer the Zeppo and No Longer the Zeppo 2, BTVS/Kindred the Embraced crossover stories. I am setting this story about one year after No Longer the Zeppo and right before the end of season 5 and Buffy's big swan dive off the platform to save the world and Dawn. This story goes into detail about something I eluded to in NLTZ 2 and gives a back story to the death of Xander's father (yes I know he was alive in the show – remember that this is an AU story). This will probably be a shorter story than the other stories, but it should be interesting (at least I hope so).

Xander is my primary focus in this story once again. I am not a true Buffy-hater; I just like the character of Xander more. Characters not from BTVS refer to Xander as Alex, as a way to show that he has changed, and is no longer the goof-ball that the Sunnydale people still associate him as being. If you find any thing that is horrifyingly wrong, please let me know or just chalk it up to my bizarre imagination. I always appreciate comments and constructive criticisms, so feel free to hit the review button or send me a private message. I tend to reply in as timely of a manner as I can manage and I hope you know how much I appreciate the time you took to do so.

Warnings: Potty language, violence, blood, and mild gore

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Chapter 1

The day was ordinary enough. He had arrived early, timed in, grabbed his hard hat, and went over the schedule for the day with the site foreman. Today they were framing the second floor and Gary, the foreman, had asked him to look after the new guy, to make sure he was doing things correctly and was being safe about it.

The day was bright. The morning fog had burned off long ago, leaving nary a trace of clouds in the bright sky. It was promising to be a pleasant day.

The early part of the morning went swiftly by. By the time his crew took a break, he was surprised to see that it was already 10:30.

As he was sitting there getting a drink of water, joking with other members of his crew, Alex felt his phone vibrate. Looking at the LCD display, he was surprised to see that it was his mother calling him.

Mary Harris only called occasionally, never more than once every couple of months. Unfortunately she was too caught up in her alcoholism to fully realize that her son had moved out of the home and away from Sunnydale. Usually when she called, it was never pretty. Most of the time she was sloshed before noon; making any sort of conversation problematic at best.

Sighing, he steeled himself and hit the send button.

"Hey Mom, what's going on?" he asked, his voice tight, expecting this to be another infrequent drunk and dialing episode.

On the other end, Mary was sobbing, but it wasn't entirely due to the alcohol in her system.

"Mom! What's going on?" Alex demanded.

"It's your father Alexander. Tony didn't come home last night and the cops just came by to tell me that his body had been found early this morning. They said it was a gang on PCP that did it," she bawled.

"Oh God no," Alex breathed. It was what he had always feared. While he knew that moving away from Sunnydale was the best thing for him, he still worried about his parents living on the Hellmouth. They weren't the best parents in the world, but they weren't monsters and he always feared that they would eventually become another victim to a roving gang on PCP that looked a whole lot similar to Primordial vampires.

His mother, oblivious to his internal musing, carried on with the conversation. "Can you please come home? I really need you," she said, weeping.

Gritting his teeth, ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that was saying no way in hell, he spoke into the cell, his voice calm and full of assurance. "Yeah, I'll come home. It will take me about five or six hours to get there, but just hand on until then." As an afterthought he added, "If I'm not there by dark, don't let anyone in the house."

He then turned off the phone and sighed. His drunk-ass father had finally gotten himself killed by a bunch of vampires and his mother needed his help. He had to do what he had sworn to never do: Return to Sunnydale.

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A/N: So what do you think? Crap or not? Hit the shiny review button and let me know.

Also, thanks for reading my story. I do appreciate the fact that you took the time to do so.

Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language, violence, and mild gore

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Chapter 2

"Are you out of your fucking mind? You want to go where?" came Emily's shriek. She paced around their apartment's bedroom, watching Alex pack a small duffle bag with some extra clothing and a few weapons. "Do you have any idea about how dangerous it is for us to be on a Hellmouth? Not to mention what could happen if you run into your old friends and they realize that you aren't the same guy that you were when you left?" Her voice had risen in volume by several degrees, magnified by the level of disbelief of what Alex wanted to do.

"Which is why I've already talked to Daedelus and he sent me over to Crystal Way and had me speak to Susan," with that he showed her the necklace with a bit of tiger's eye and staurolite on the knotted chord. "Both are supposed to offer protection, both physical and psychically. Also, Daedelus said that as long as I don't stay on the Hellmouth for an extended period of time and as long as I stay away from the actual opening, I should be okay."

"I don't like this," she said and stopped pacing. "You've only been Kindred for less than a year and have only recently come into your magical abilities. How can you be sure that you'll be okay?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't, but my mom needs me," he said as he threw another shirt into the bag.

"Have you talked to Cash?" she asked, hoping that the Gangrel Primogen would be able to talk some sense into him.

He nodded. "Yep, second thing I did after talking to Daedelus. He said as long as I take care of my business quickly and I maintain the Masquerade, my going back home is up to me."

Emily sighed and ran a hand through her dark brown hair. "It's not that I don't care about your mom, it's just that this is the Hellmouth we are talking about here."

"I know and I appreciate your concern. However I need to get Mom out of there and make sure that Dad wasn't turned and if he was, then I have to prevent him going after Mom."

"Do you want me to go with you?" she asked even though she knew that deep down she didn't want to go. She sincerely hated the idea of going onto a Hellmouth. However, if Alex wanted her to go with him, she would; she loved him that much.

Alex smiled, knowing how much she did not want to go but would go anyway if he asked her to. "No. You've got classes to go to and that big test this week. You need to be here. Also, in case I need something, I need you to be available."

Emily looked up at him, her blue eyes full of worry. "Do you promise to call if something, anything comes up?" Her previous anger and disbelief had vanished, now replaced with concern.

He sat down beside her on the bed and took her hands gently in his. "Em, I promise. No heroics, no nothing. I go, get Mom taken care of, straighten out her affairs, and stake my father if he needs it," he said. "Wow. That was something I thought I'd never say. God Almighty! I can't believe I might actually have to stake my dad. Shit!"

"He's already dead. You would just prevent the demon from desecrating his body any further," she said, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I know," he said tiredly. "If they had only fucking listened to me then maybe this could have been prevented."

"You tried to warn them. They made their choice," she said and stood up abruptly. "Finish up so you can get on the road. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back."

"You're awesome, you know that?" Alex smiled, looking up at her from his seated position.

"I know," she grinned at him. "And you had better not forget it buddy."

"Yes ma'am!"

Half an hour later he was on the road. He had packed enough clothes for a couple of days, along with several choice weapons that he knew could easily be of use in Sunnydale. He also brought with him a supply of blood in a couple of thermoses. He didn't want to have to rely on the local population for his food, nor risk running into Buffy or one of the Scoobies and have them stake him, thinking he was like the local vampire population.

_XanderXanderXander_

Four hours later, he was zooming past the Welcome to Sunnydale sign, proclaiming that it is a great place to live and play.

"It's also a great place to die," he muttered to himself.

He was driving Emily's car. They figured that there was an off-chance that someone could recognize his car which may or may not cause him difficulties that were best avoided.

He drove through familiar streets, by-passing the Qwik-Mart where he and Jesse had hung out as kids playing videogames and trying to sneak a peak at the nudie magazines that were kept just off from the other magazines.

He passed a park where he, Willow, Jesse, and Harmony (before she met Cordelia and became a mega bitch) used to play tag until dark.

He drove past ball fields, his elementary school, the church where he had been baptized at – before his parents had fallen victim to alcohol.

Not only did he see landmarks from his childhood, he also saw the spot that marked the end of his innocence: He drove past the cemetery where he had been forced to stake Jesse.

All in all, he found the drive to be depressing.

Soon, he found himself in front of his parent's home. The place looked tired and run down. The house itself looked as if it needed to be painted, the grass needed to be cut. The trash was sitting out by the curb and if he were the betting type, he's wager that most of the trash was composed of glass bottles and take-out cartons.

Sighing, he turned off the car, picked up his duffle-bag and the small cooler that held his blood, and climbed out of the vehicle. Alex adjusted his sunglasses and looked over at Willow's parent's home.

Their place had its typical ship-shape appearance. The paint wasn't pealing; the gutters looked clean and in good repair. The flower beds and the lawn looked as if a professional service had recently come out and worked on the (which was very likely since neither Mr. nor Mrs. Rosenberg were botanically inclined and Willow didn't know one end of a lawn mower from the other).

He only hoped that Willow wouldn't be making an appearance anytime soon and was staying on campus. He didn't want to run into her, just in case she noticed something odd about him.

That said, the real reason he didn't want to run into her and Buffy, was that even a year later, he wasn't ready to deal with the hurt they had caused. He was still angry at them for making him the group Zeppo, negating any and all contributions he had made to the group because he had been normal, without powers.

It was petty, he knew, to still be holding on to this grudge. He was better than that, he knew, but the pain of being ignored and taken advantage of hadn't gone away as instantly as he would have liked.

Sucking it up and pushing these dark, dwelling thoughts back to the recesses of his mind, he knocked on the door, hoping that his mother was sober enough (and alive) to answer the door.

Fortunately, his mother was sober enough to answer the door. She had been drinking, but luckily it hadn't gotten to the point where she was passed out.

"Alexander?" Mary Harris asked, looking confused. "What are you doing here?"

Alex fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You called me Mom to tell me about Dad. You asked me to come home. Well, here I am." He tried to keep the testiness out of his voice, but it was pretty hard to do when the person that asked you to come back to the Hellmouth because your father got himself so sloshed, he allowed himself to be an easy target for a bunch of vampires, was as drunk as a skunk before five in the evening.

"Well," she said slowly, wiping her eyes, with the back of her hand, "come in."

Alex walked in through the front door and dropped his belongings by the stairs. He looked around and saw that the walls were still painted that sickly green color that had once upon a time been a cheerful sea green. There was a layer of dust on the pictures and furniture and old food cartons were stacked up on the living room coffee table. Things looked pretty much the same as they had when he had first left Sunnydale less than a year ago.

The only thing missing was his father's form passed out, drunk on the couch.

He wandered into the living room, moved the bottle that was sticking out of one of the cushions of the couch and sat down. Looking up at his mother, watching her sniffle and pull tighter at her frayed robe, all he could see a tired, worn out woman. She had lost her vigor and youth so early due to the drinking. She was only forty-six years old and easily looked closer to sixty. Her hair was grey and unkempt, her eyes were red and puffy due to the tears that she has obviously been shedding, not to mention the bottle of vodka that she clutched in her hand. The years had not been kind to her and the last twelve hours had been even less so.

"When did you get those tattoos?" she asked him, looking at the inked bracelets circling each wrist.

Alex glanced down at the tattooed chains and nervously pushed his watch down to cover one of them a bit better. "A couple of months ago," he shrugged.

"When did you start wearing a watch?" she then asked, picking up on the strangest things.

"A little less than two years ago Mom when I started working construction. You either are on time, which means early, or you're fired."

"Do you like it? What you do, I mean."

"Yeah, it's great. It pays well, I like building things, working with my hands," he shrugged.

Mary looked at him as closely as her alcohol –tinged vision would allow. "I remember you said something about some girl. Are you seeing anyone?"

Alex grinned. He couldn't help it. The mere thought of Emily always brought a smile to his face. "Her name is Emily. She's great too. Enough about me, Mom; what happened to Dad? Where was he?"

She shrugged. "Tony stopped by his favorite bar after work, per usual. According to the cops, he was found out in the alleyway around four or so in the morning. They said that he had been killed by gang members on PCP. Mrs. Johansson down the block was killed two weeks ago by gang members on PCP and just a week before that, a teenager was also killed in the same way. Why aren't the cops doing anything about this gang problem?" At this, she burst into tears, forcing Alex to wrap his arms around his mother and literally let her cry on him.

When she was calmer, he sat her down. "Mom, bad things happen in this town and the cops won't do anything about it partially because they can't. They don't know how to deal with it, so they ignore everything. You need to leave this town before it destroys you like it did to Dad. I am asking you to please leave here before it's too late. You can move up to San Francisco or move back to Chicago. You were always talking about how you wanted to move back there to be with Aunt Grace. Just please don't stay here," he begged his mother. "I'll take care of all the arrangements, get things settled here. I don't want to come back here because the town has killed you too."

"Moving is so hard and what about work?"

"We can get people to move your stuff for you. We'll hire someone, get the house sold, and it'll be a lot easier than what you're thinking. As for work, you can always find another job in Chicago. When you aren't drinking Mom, you're a really good nurse and they always need good nurses, especially in the big cities. Please, do it for me," Alex went for the kill and gave her his warm brown, puppy-dog eyed look.

She caved, just like he knew he would.

He didn't want to have to resort to using the mental abilities being Kindred afforded him. Daedelus had warned him against using them too much on a place that had so much negative energy about it. He said that it could rebound badly upon him; caution was wiser than expediency he said. Luckily, his "look" was more powerful than any supernatural ability and had won her over.

Alex sighed. Now he had some difficult business to take care of. "Mom, have you gone to claim Dad yet down at the morgue?"

She shook her head. "I was too much of a coward," she admitted. "Tony, despite all of his flaws, wasn't a bad man. I just didn't want to see," she said, unable to finish her sentence.

"I'll take care of it," he said, glad that it gave him a more legitimate reason for being down at the morgue that night. "Also, what bar was Dad at?"

She told him which bar had been the last place his father was seen alive at. After that, he helped her to bed, tucked her in, and promised that things would be better in the morning.

Kissing her good night, praying that she would be okay, he left her to a night of emptiness and loneliness while he had business to take care of.

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A/N: So what do you think? Hit the shiny review button and let me know.

Also, thank you very much for taking the time to read this story. I do appreciate it. Also, thank you to those of you who put this story on their lists. That is very kind of you to do so and is appreciated very much. Trimma, Artsea V, and Kase1053: thank you!

Finally, I probably should have mentioned this, but this is NOT the third installment of my No Longer the Zeppo series. This is just a side note that I wanted tied up and so I finally quit stalling and moved it from my messy notebook on to the computer. I am not going for anything big here (nor will it be a long story), but I wanted to show that Xander has a lot of issues left over from his time as a Scooby and that people aren't being honest with him (and that he has missed something important – which you know already if you read No Longer the Zeppo 2).

Okay, I've rambled on enough here. Thanks and have a great day.

Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language, violence, and mild gore

* * *

Chapter 3

He waited until dark, knowing that his dad, Tony, whatever, wouldn't rise until then, if he had been turned in the first place.

Before that, he spent the next several hours moving around the house, cleaning up the mess. He picked up bottles and cans, pizza boxes, Chinese take-out cartons, old newspapers, and junk mail. Stuff had clearly been piling up since he had left; he had found an old bill, long past its due date, that had been postmarked from the time he had first left. By the time he had finished, he had collected three large garbage bags full of trash. After that, he wiped down the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned out the refrigerator of rotting and spoiled food.

Carrying the garbage out to the large garbage cans, he looked up at the window to Willow's bedroom. The lights were off and the window itself was closed.

_Probably for the best_, he thought to himself. He missed her, missed their friendship. Hell, he had been missing their friendship since the day they graduated from high school.

However, if they were to run into each other again, it could and would get very dicey for the both of them. She would assume that he was like the local vampires and try to kill him. He would then be forced to kill her to save his own life (or un-life) and preserve the Masquerade. Either way, it would turn out to be a bad situation for everyone involved, especially him. He wasn't ready to die, nor did he want his childhood friend to be his first.

Closer to 8:00, he checked on his mother one more time, happy to note that she was still asleep. He opened up his duffle bag and removed the change of clothes he had packed. Those he set aside and took out the assortment of weapons he had brought with him.

A couple of wooden stakes went into the back pockets of his cargos, ones he had personally carved to make sure the ends were nice and pointy. Next was his ever handy and convenient K-Bar knife. He had carried it with him for several years, starting from the time he had first learned of the existence of vampires. He placed it in a sheath that he kept on his belt, allowing him to conceal it with the tail of his shirt, but granting him easy access. After that was a leather and metal bracer that fit snuggly around his forearm, but left his wrist with full mobility. Attached to the bracer was a spring loaded knife, which he had replaced the metal blade with a custom made wooden one. It served as a sneak-attack weapon, hidden from sight until it was too late.

Over this, he pulled on a long sleeved black button down shirt. The arms were long enough and roomy enough to hide the weapons.

Finally he pulled out a sawed off shot gun (highly illegal most, if not all fifty states) that shot special-made shells filled with wooden pellets instead of the regular metal pellets. He obviously wouldn't carry it around with him, but would keep it in the car, with easy access in case he needed it as a last resort. He probably wouldn't need it, but it never hurt to be over prepared when it came to Sunnydale.

He quietly left the house and locked it up, making sure that his mother was as secure possible in Sunnydale. Alex moved like a ghost, silent and nearly invisible. Being Kindred gave him an advantage that most people didn't have. While he didn't have the power of invisibility, he had the ability as all Kindred did to be superior hunters, having the ability to use stealth and silence to one's advantage.

The drive over to the city morgue was uneventful and very familiar. It was a route that he had taken several times when he had lived in Sunnydale, having to go check to see if someone had been turned when the report of their demise due to 'gangs on PCP' came in.

He parked in the small parking lot, as far from the front door and as close to the lot's exit as possible. He didn't want his presence to be obvious and wanted a quick way out if need be.

Walking in, he noted that the paint was still a pale yellow that looked institutional and depressing with odd tile work that was someone's bizarre way of trying to make people forget that this was a morgue.

Alex was met by an unfamiliar attendant.

"Where's Jerry?" he asked, looking around for his old friend.

Mark, according to his name tag, smiled sadly. "Jerry was killed four months ago."

"Oh," Alex said, taken aback. "Well, I'm here to identify the body of Tony Harris. Can we do that now?"

"Are you family?" the small man, with a balding plate and a bow tie asked.

"Tony is, was my father. My mom couldn't bring herself to do it, so I'm doing it," Alex did his best to keep any amount of annoyance out of his voice.

"Oh well, I guess that's okay. Follow me please," Mark said in an officious voice.

"I know the way," Alex replied, tired of the human already. "I've been here before." He barely held back the urge to push the guy out of his way.

They went down a long hallway to the main area they stored the bodies. From the doorway Alex was able to see an outline of a body underneath a blue sheet on the main examination table.

The attendant walked over and pulled the sheet down, exposing the face and upper torso of the person.

Alex sucked in a breath sharply. He felt tightness in his chest, an ache that hurt him more than anything ever had. His eyes burned with unshed tears that he barely held back; he was sure that blood tears would not be something he could easily explain away to the attendant.

"Is this your father?" Mark the attendant asked, his voice in a well-trained tone that was to express sorrow and condolence to the bereaved.

Alex nodded and sniffed slightly. "Yeah, that's Tony. Would it be all right if I could have a few minutes with him?" he asked, doing his best to project the image of a grieving son, which wasn't all that far off. While Tony Harris hadn't been a great father, he had been a decent guy that had fallen victim to weakness and disease. Despite the emotional neglect, Alex couldn't find it in him to hate the man.

"Sure. I'll just be out in the office there working on some paperwork," he said, gesturing towards the office connected with the exam room that was connected by a plexi-glass window.

"Thanks," Alex said, smiling tightly. He leaned up against the counter, watching closely the body of his father for a sign of rejuvenation and movement. He had taken a quick sniff, confirming by scent that the body before him had indeed been turned. It wasn't commonly known, but Primordial vampires had a slightly different scent about them. It was something he had picked up on after he had gone through the hyena possession thing. Now that he was Kindred, his sense of smell was even more sensitive.

Primordials smelled of earth, decaying leaves, dry dustiness. It was the same as the dirt in a freshly turned over plot of soil, but there was a sense of wrongness about it. It did not smell natural, but perverted and eerie. The sensation made sense if one considered it was the smell of a demon inhabiting a once living being, but unnatural all the same.

Finally, after waiting several long minutes, Alex was not to be disappointed. The body twitched a little, the hands underneath the sheet jerking slightly before the eyes snapped open and he abruptly sat up.

"Took you long enough," Alex commented dryly.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get settled into a new body?" the demon in Tony Harris' body bitched.

Alex smiled, but without humor. "No, not really. I've never had the unique pleasure of having my soul supplanted by a demon."

"Alexander! How nice of you to come by and see my rebirth. How fitting," he exclaimed, his vamped out face smiling in twisted pleasure. "I was there for your birth all those years ago and now you're here for mine."

"Yeah, yeah. The circle is now complete," Alex mocked the demon vampire. "There's a slight problem though. _You_ weren't there at my birth. Tony Harris, the human whose body you're squatting in, was there. You were in some deep, fiery circle of hell."

"Of course I'm your dad! Why wouldn't you think so?" was the vampire's response, evoking a laugh from Alex.

"Have you looked in the mirror? Oh wait, you don't have a reflection. My bad. Let me describe it to you. You have a ridged face, yellow eyes, and fangs. My dad didn't have those things."

The Tony-shaped demon shrugged. "It was worth a try. I still have all of his memories though. You seem a bit different from when you left this town."

Alex shrugged also, the gesture somewhat similar between the two of them. "It's been quite a year since then. People change. By the way, I can't call you Dad or Tony because, well, you're not him. Do you have a name or something?"

It smiled. "I was once known as Rakshasas. Will that work? Also, can you get me some clothes? It's a bit drafty and I don't relish the idea of walking around naked, even in this town, the cops would notice."

"Nice, but no. I want to spend some time together, do some bonding, catch-up if you will," Alex snarked at the demon. "Come on Rickshaw! Don't you want to find that special connection where we can bare our souls? Oh wait, I'm sorry. I keep on forgetting that you don't have one. Silly me."

"You're awfully insolent, even for a teenager. It makes me wonder," he trailed off, gazing at Alex intently. "You're hiding something from me Alexander. Sons shouldn't hide things from their fathers."

The Gangrel rolled his eyes. "Who says I'm hiding anything?" With that, he smirked, giving the Primordial a fuller smile, exposing sharper than normal teeth.

"Well, well, well. It looks like the son has come home to make papa proud," the vampire smiled though it was clear to even the densest rock that he still didn't know that he was Kindred, not some garden variety Hellmouth vampire. "Let's say you and I go on home, get your mom, turn her, and make ourselves one big happy family."

He laughed at that. "Great, the blood-sucking Brady Bunch. That would be awesome but there's a slight problem with that plan."

The Tony-demon looked perplexed as he gathered the thin morgue sheet around him. "What would that be? We go, get Mom, and bite her; I don't see the problem here."

"Well, I'm not exactly like you. I got my teeth in a different way, plus I got a whole bunch of bonuses that came with it. I got to keep my soul, I can be out in the sun, the strength of ten men, oh, and best of all, I'm not a demon hitching a ride in someone else's body. It was like winning the ultimate prize at a school carnival cake walk." Alex pushed himself up and away from the counter that he had been leaning against and moved ever so closer to the vampire.

"What?" the demon asked, looking confused. While the Hellmouth brand of vampire might be hardy and tough, this one was clearly a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal. "Come on, Son. Let's go paint this town red with the neighbor's blood. Why don't we start with Old Man Stafford? It would serve him right for always mowing his yard at seven in the morning on a Sunday. The man had no respect for the hung-over. How about the Rosenburgs? I always hated their snotty, book-worm attitudes, always muttering about child neglect and being a poor example."

"Yeah, that would be great. Killing the Rosenburgs would be tons of fun, except for it not being tons of fun. Also their daughter is a witch and best friends with the Slayer. Do you not think that she would be put out if you killed them?" Alex said sarcastic as ever.

The demon shrugged. "How about we go and have a drink, get to know one another then?"

Alex snorted. "Oh yeah, that would be just dandy. Why don't we go to Willy's, throw back a couple, and pray that the Slayers and her friends show up? That sounds just great," he recited in a sing-song voice. "Also, can't you lose the game face? It's really annoying."

The demon-vampire rolled his eyes and shifted his features to a more human appearance.

Upon seeing his father's face, Alex forced himself to suppress the shiver running along his back. He suddenly realized that the vampire-face was less unnerving than the human face. However, he wasn't about to let the vampire know that and give him an advantage.

"Weren't you friends with the Slayer at one point?" Rakshasas asked, using his demonic knowledge and the knowledge gained from Tony when he possessed him.

"Best of buds for a while," Alex admitted. "But unfortunately we grew apart, went different directions in life. She went to college and I got a job and eventually left town."

The demon shook its head, confused. "When did this change in you happen? I thought Tony's son was normal, human-like."

"I was but you know how life goes. I made a detour, but I am okay with it. I am one with my different-ness," Alex confessed.

"Well, I hope you are happy with your choices son but I have to get going. There's a lot to do between now and dawn. I know your mom will be happy to see me," Tony said and moved to get off the table.

Alex was finally ready to do what he had to do. He stood in front of the demon, blocking his exit. "Sorry, Mom is off limits and you can't stay in my dad's body."

"Now Alexander," the demon began but stopped when he felt a god-awful burning sensation in his chest. He looked down and saw a stake jutting out of his chest.

"That's no way to treat your dad," it began but was interrupted by his crumbling to dust.

"Oh shit! I forgot to ask him about the vampire that turned him. Why can't this be any easier?" he groused, pissed that he forgot something that important. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to deal then," he said, being his own cheerleader.

"Oh my God," came a breathless voice from behind Alex.

Alex turned around and saw the city morgue employee standing there, white as a ghost. "Sweep up the mess and send the dust to Newcomer's Funeral Home. Tell them to add some concrete mix into what's left and let them know that I'll be by tomorrow to pick up the urn and pay for it," he ordered the human, all business, not letting anyone, much less some attendant know how much it was killing him on the inside to have destroyed his father.

He knew that it wasn't his dad that he had just staked, but a demon. Despite that, his chest ached with the knowledge that it had been him that shoved a piece of wood into the demon's heart.

"Move it," Alex barked, galvanizing the human into action. "Also, I was never here. Do you understand?" Alex moved closer to the human, using his size and dark demeanor to intimidate the man into submission.

The human nodded dumbly and Alex turned to leave. He strode out of the examination room, down the hall, and out the front door, determined to now find the ones responsible for turning his father.

Unfortunately he ran right smack into someone.

"Oof!" the person gasped, stumbling back several paces.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," Alex began but then realized who it was that he ran into.

"Xander! What in the blazes are you doing here?" Rupert Giles, Watcher extraordinaire, exclaimed.

"Good to see you too Giles," Alex said, mentally banging his head against a wall. _Christ on a bicycle, this is the last thing I need! Next thing you know, asshole Spike is going to show_, he screamed to him-self.

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think? Crap or not? Hit the shiny review button and let me know.

Okay, it has been awhile since I've posted on this story. I am sorry. I got sucked into my Immortal Spacemonkey (shameless self-promotion here) and it held me hostage. Also, real life got in the way from time to time. Anyhoo, I am back and I promise to update in a more regular manner than I did before. My bad. Please find it in your hearts to forgive me. Thank you TAO for kicking my butt into gear. I needed it.

Thanks once again for reading my stuff. It is appreciated.

Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language, violence, and mild gore

* * *

Chapter 4

"My word, Xander, what are you doing here?" Giles repeated himself, looking slightly shocked.

"My mom called me and told me that my dad had been killed. I came back to make sure he stayed dead," Alex said, his voice devoid of any real emotion. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Alex continued on his way, forcing Giles to follow him. He walked over to Giles' car, careful to remain on the border between the light cast by the streetlights and the shadows they created. It felt more natural, well as natural as Kindred on a Hellmouth could feel. Being out in the open went against his instincts. He preferred to be on the fringes, to not attract the wrong attention.

"Well," Giles began, taking off his glasses and cleaned them absently. "I, we, heard about your father and I came by to make sure that it wasn't the worst case scenario for him."

"Oh, well then, thank you for that. However it's been taken care of," Alex disclosed, careful to keep his emotions at bay. Having his father rise from the dead and having to stake him brought forth strong emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, causing him to lose control.

"Then he was turned?" Giles pressed, looking at the young man carefully.

"Yeah, some fucker decided make Tony's body a timeshare but I killed the squatter instead," Alex ground out between clenched teeth.

Giles immediately softened. "Oh Xander, I am so sorry that you had to do that. No one should have to be the one to stake their own family. I wish I had gotten here sooner, but things are a bit hectic right now. I _am_ sorry," the Watcher exclaimed, sincerity marking every word.

Alex shrugged. "It had to be done and I would rather have it done by me than anyone else," he said, and then paused. "Thank you though just the same." He didn't want to sound ungrateful. It was nice of Giles to want to make sure that his father remained dead, instead of becoming a member of the un-dead. _Only in Sunnydale_, he thought to him self, _would you thank someone for being willing to come by and stake your father_.

"Are you in town for long and do the others know about you?" Giles went on.

"Know what about me?" Alex asked defensive.

Giles looked puzzled for a second. "About you being in town," he elaborated.

"Oh, that. No, they don't and they don't need to know. I'm only in town long enough to get my mom moved out of this hell hole and get hers and Dad's affairs settled. I can't come back here again," at this point he was looking off in the distance, not really there in the conversation. "Being back on the Hellmouth is too dangerous. It makes my skin crawl. It feels wrong. You leave, get the influences of the Hellmouth get burned out of you, and you are better for it. Being back here almost hurts, you can feel the evil all around you. Emily was right about how dangerous a Hellmouth could be."

The Watcher was looking at him closely, noticing that this Xander was not the same Xander that had left Sunnydale less than a year before. He seemed darker and more in tune with what was around him. There was an awareness that hadn't been present before.

"Who is Emily?" Giles asked.

Alex snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry. God, I am starting to sound like Daedelus! Emily is my girlfriend. She was just worried about me coming back to the murder capital of California," he answered, careful to watch what he said.

"You mentioned someone named Daedelus. Who is that?" Giles pressed, wanting to find the missing puzzle piece to Xander.

"Daedelus?" Alex asked, looking a bit startled at the mention of the name, like he hadn't realized that he had said the name out loud. "He's someone I've met up in San Francisco."

"Are you in town for long?"

"No. I hope to be out of here by the day after tomorrow. I don't want to be here any longer than that,"' he said, determined to match his words with actions. "I have to find the Primordials that did that to my Dad. After that, Mom and I are gone. Take care of yourself Giles. You might want to think about leaving some day also. Hellmouths will drag you down for sure."

Giles was about to respond, but suddenly found himself standing by his car, alone. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed and looked all around for the wayward youth.

"Something is not right with that boy. And what is a Primordial? I know I've heard of that term before in one of my books," Giles muttered to himself.

He was standing there talking to himself when Buffy finally showed up.

"Hey Giles! What's with the talking to your self crazy act? Did we forget to take our meds again?" she said smartly.

"Very funny," he was almost tempted to tell the Slayer that Xander was back in town, but something deep down told him to keep still. It had been an unreal conversation and he wanted to look up a few things before he mentioned the chance encounter.

"What now? Is Xander's dad a vamp or what? I've got places to be and Glory to kill. We can't waste time on small stuff like this," she pronounced.

Giles, caught off guard by such a flippant thing for Buffy to say, turned on her. "Look here young lady. That was one of the more insensitive things you've said in a long time. While Tony Harris may not be a hell goddess, his fate is just as important. If I were you I would get off your high horse."

_Jeez, what crawled up his ass?_ Buffy thought to herself. Out loud she said, faking a contrite look, "Sorry. What about Mr. Harris? Is he or isn't he a vampire?"

"It's been taken care of Buffy. Now you need to go on patrol. I'll be at the Magic Box. I have a few things I need to cross reference."

From the shadows, Alex looked on, grinning slightly. "You go G-man," he said softly and then disappeared into the darkness, in search of his father's killers.

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? Crap or not? Hit the shiny review button and let me know.

Giles may or may not know something. I have this feeling that people were expecting a big confrontation between Giles and Xander, but that just didn't feel right to me, but that doesn't mean something can't happen at a later date. Anyways, thanks once again for reading and reviewing.

Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language, violence, and mild gore

* * *

Chapter 5

Alex, once he was sure that Giles had left and Buffy was no longer around, started up the car. His mom had told him that his dad had been at T.O.'s, his favorite bar. It wasn't too far the Bronze actually, but catered to the adult crowd rather than the high school and college crowd.

It was also generally known as _not_ being a demon bar like Willy's; Tony being killed there had to be a fluke of random bad luck.

He drove over there and parked a couple of blocks down from the place. Getting out, he grabbed his black leather jacket from the back. It was a warm spring night and might look a bit odd to be wearing a jacket, but within the folds of the surprisingly light garment, he could conceal the shotgun in a special sling he had sewn into the lining. He absolutely hated going into a fight under prepared. While wading into battle, armed with just a stake and a cross was Buffy's gig, it wasn't his.

He found the bar easily. He had been there a couple of times before when he had been called to come and collect his dad after a night of heavy drinking, something that the others, not even Willow, had been aware of. The gang all knew his parents were alcoholics, hell the whole town knew, but they were never aware of any of the details. Everyone treated it as a joke, like it was a source of amusement for the general population. Willow had even made a few jokes about his parents' lack of parental skills. She didn't mean to be cruel when she said certain things, but it still got to him never-the-less. However, he _never_ let anyone know how much the comments hurt.

Alex walked through the front door of the bar and scanned the inside of the building and its inhabitants.

There was a bartender behind the bar, T.O. he presumed recognizing the man from past trips to the dive. Three men were sitting on stools at the bar, drowning in their drinks and watching a baseball game on the TV screen. A waitress, who looked tired and old beyond her actual years, was waiting on a couple sitting in a booth not to far from the battered jukebox. Also, in the back of the bar, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke were three Primordial vampires.

Looking them over carefully, glaring with ill-disguised hate, noting their appearance and demeanor, he turned his back to them and walked over to the bar and sat down on one of the empty places at the bar.

"What will it be?" T.O. asked gruffly, flinging a dirty towel across his shoulder.

"Budweiser, bottle," was his reply, his voice cold as he slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar top. "I'd also like some info."

T.O. looked at the youth carefully, not bothering to ask for any sort of identification, as he handed over the brown bottle. "You're Tony Harris' son right?"

Alex nodded as he swallowed a mouthful of the beer. One of the nice things about being Kindred was the incredibly high tolerance for alcohol. One bottle of beer was pretty much equal to a gallon of Tang (the drink of the astronauts) for him. "Yeah, Tony was my dad. What happened to him last night?"

T.O. looked apologetic. "I'm really not sure. I told the cops he left around one, maybe two in the morning. I offered to call him a cab but he refused, saying that he could walk home on his own. Around four in the morning when I was taking out the trash, I found him face down in the alleyway by the dumpsters. His neck looked as if it had been chewed on by some sort of animal," the bartender explained.

Alex grimaced at that horrible mental picture. "Did he leave with anyone or did anyone follow him?"

The bartender looked thoughtful for a minute. "Not exactly," he said. "However, those three wastes-of-time left right after your pop did."

"You mean the three Sex Pistols wannabes in the back?" Alex asked, refusing to turn around and look at the Primordials. He knew they were there, he could feel their filthy presence as clearly as he could feel his clothes touching his skin.

"Yeah, them," the human agreed. "You don't want to be thinking about going after them son. Those three are trouble."

"What do you know about them?" Alex asked sharply, wondering if the human knew what really went on in Sunnydale.

He looked at Alex and smiled. "Let's just say I've never bought the gangs on PCP story and I never invite people into my home after dark. Those things are out of your league kid."

The Gangrel smiled a bitter smile. "People have told me that for years and I've never listened. Besides, I have a few tricks up my sleeves. You might want to get you waitress behind the bar though. You know, they really aren't all that smart, coming back to the scene of their crime. One might start to think they want to get caught."

T.O. looked at Alex with alarm. "Do you know what you are getting into?" he then signaled to the waitress and brought her around the bar where it would be a bit safer. He didn't want to put his employee in direct danger. He could be an ass sometimes, but not a complete one.

Alex just smirked and finished off the beer. "Yeah, I do." With that, he stood up and stretched his arms and back out. He rolled his neck and shoulders, loosening up the tense muscles.

He walked towards the vampires, his brown eyes cold and dead. He kept his hands free and open, giving the illusion that he was unarmed and not a threat to anyone.

The vampires looked up at him as he walked towards them. One could tell that they did not know what to make of him exactly. They knew that he wasn't human; he didn't smell like one and his body temperature was a bit lower than normal.

"Can we help you?" the black-haired one asked in a bored tone.

He and his friends really did look like they came straight from a Sex Pistols look-alike contest. They all had that skinny, heroin look. Their jeans were ripped; their t-shirts were proclaimed their love of the Ramones, the Clash, or anarchy in general. Their hair, all of it dyed unnatural colors, was wild and messy, sticking up in every direction.

"Which one of you turned Tony Harris?" Alex bit out. He was less than happy.

"Sorry, pal. I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," said the one with blue hair and a jean jacket covered in metal studs and the anarchists' symbol, laughing. It would have been obvious to a blind person that they were lying through their pointy teeth.

If he hadn't been so pissed, Alex would have made a disparaging comment about their style being stuck in the long distant past. _God, no wonder Primordials attract Slayers. They stand out like a rose among weeds. Well, maybe more like a weed among roses. Whatever. Thank God Kindred have more sense, expect the Brujah and a few crazier elements_, he thought absently.

"I want to know. Tony _was_ my dad and I want to know who it was that allowed a demon take up residence in his body," he said, glaring daggers at them.

The third one remained silent, allowing the other two to speak up for him, giving him a chance to evaluate the being in front of him. He was blocked in by one of his friends, keeping him in place, but protecting him from direct harm.

"Your father was freed man. You should be happy that he no longer had to worry about all of the stupid rules of society. Freedom man," the blue haired one drawled. "Freedom is everything."

"Right, you gave him freedom from all of those pesky human things, like breathing for instance. What a bunch of fucking princes you guys are!" Alex gave them a wicked smile, showing a set of overly sharp teeth. "Now let me give you something."

He drove his fist forward, pressing a hidden release, ejecting the wooden blade from its hiding spot. He plunged the blade into the vampire's heart, causing him to disintegrate into fine particles of dust.

"Shit!" the leader yelled and scrabbled over the table, wanting to get away from this other nutcase vampire that was killing his own kind.

The other vampire also bolted, not willing to be on the receiving end of a stake to the heart.

The customers sat there in shock, watching in amazement as the vampire crumbled to dust and the others moved so fast it was barely discernable to the human eye.

"Fuck!" Alex swore and pulled out the shotgun from underneath his coat and worked the pump action, sending a shell into the chamber. Taking careful aim he pulled the trigger and fired off a round, striking the fleeing vampire in the heart.

It never made it a step further, just barely a foot from the door, a foot away from freedom.

The bar patrons all screamed or yelled and dove for cover. T.O. pulled Jackie, the waitress and his sometime-girlfriend to the ground, shielding her with his massive frame.

The remaining vampire, the leader, the one Alex would have bet even money on to be the one who had turned his father, managed to escape. Having no choice, Alex gave chase, running out of the bar, ignoring the dumbfounded looks on everyone's' faces.

Once outside, he paused to look around, searching for the bastard. Sniffing the air, he searched for the vampire's scent on the wind. There! Following the smell of death and decay, Alex turned his head and caught sight of the bastard running down the street then cutting over, crossing into St. Mary's Cemetery.

Alex ran, ran as fast as he could, not wanting to let the bastard get away. He shucked the coat and the shotgun, tossing them behind some bushes that bordered a brick building that, during the day, housed the insurance company his father had worked for.

As he ran, he gave up his human form, letting it dissolve away and be replaced by a more primitive, more instinctual form: a hyena. It was the animal shape he was most comfortable with, the one that felt right and natural. Although he could shift into other animal forms and the wolf was the more popular animal among the Gangrel, the hyena was the one that he preferred.

Running on all fours now, reveling in the animal's swiftness and strength, he dodged around benches and bushes. He leapt over tombstones, always focused on catching the monster that was responsible for killing his father.

The vampire was running hard, doing his best to evade whatever in the hell was chasing him. His preternatural abilities gave him increased stamina and agility. However, that wasn't enough to keep him safe. He couldn't get a good look at what was chasing him, but he had a distinct impression that it was some sort of animal, with black and yellow fur and golden eyes.

Finding it within him, the vampire, once known as Bobby Kenner, put a burst of speed into his run, hoping that it was enough to distance him from his pursuer. He leapt over a cross-shaped tombstone, ignoring the burning sensation in his leg as it grazed the monument.

Just as he thought he might be safe, he was knocked to the ground. He found himself face down in the dirt and grass, something heavy, with four large paws, standing on top of him. Snarling, he flipped over onto his back, flinging the animal from him.

He looked down his body to see what appeared to be a wild dog of some sort standing there, growling at him.

As he lay there watching the beast stare at him with hungry amber eyes, the animal began to shift and change form. The paws, the ears, the muzzle, the razor-sharp teeth disappeared; leaving a snarling young man crouched there in the grass.

"How the fuck did you do that?" the vampire asked, his eyes wide in shock and amazement. "Vampires can't do that!"

"I'm not one of your kind asshole," Alex ground out and leapt at the Primordial, catching him in mid-flight and dragging him to the ground.

Over and over they rolled, exchanging punches. Each hit more brutal than the one before. They tore at each other with their claws, tearing clothing and skin. Both were determined to destroy the other.

Back and forth they fought, each vicious and snarling. Neither one of them were willing to call it quits and give up. The vampire was determined to survive while Alex was determined to kill the vampire that was responsible for his father's death.

Finally Alex was able to gain the upper hand and found himself behind the vampire. He wrapped his legs around the vampire's lower body, using his leverage and greater mass to his advantage immobilizing the lower half. Alex wrapped an arm across his opponent's chest while the other arm snaked around and grabbed his head and cranked his neck towards his shoulder. He pushed hard, shoving the vampire's head and neck further than it was ever meant to turn. Alex could hear a horrible popping noise as tendons and ligaments tore as he cracked harder and harder, forcing the lower half of the vampire's body to remain in place while the neck rotated farther than designed.

Suddenly there was a wet and grinding noise, as if meat was being torn from the bone by a rabid animal. Alex was pushing and pulling up with all of his might and suddenly found him self being showered by dust. He had literally ripped the vampire's head from his body, therefore killing the demon just as effectively as shoving a stake through its heart (and a lot more difficult to do).

Alex stood up, breathing hard, thankful that it had been the demon that had been the one to die and not him. It had been a violent and brutal way to kill a vampire, he recognized. However, the demon had to be stopped and a part of him was glad to make its death a brutal one – staking was too gentle of a way to go for the vampire that had killed and turned his father. Justice was not always clean and neat, he noted.

As he stood there, brushing the dust off his clothes and hair, a slow and lazy clapping broke the stillness of the night.

Alex whipped around, looking for the person that was disturbing his quiet.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the whelp had got himself an upgrade," came an accompanying and oh so familiar annoying voice.

"Fuck you Spike."

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? Crap or not? Hit the shiny review button and make my day just a tad brighter.

What can I say but thank you for reading (and reviewing hopefully). I have mixed feelings about this chapter and am slightly stymied in working things out in the next one. Any constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated. Would shameless begging and the promise of virtual brownies help?

Cheers!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language, violence, and mild gore

* * *

Chapter 6 

"Now, that's nice a polite thing to say," Spike smirked, his hand shoved deep into a pocket of his black leather trench coat, fishing for something. "Here I am, minding my own bloody business and here you come disrupting the peace of the night, killing one of my own."

Alex looked at the bleached-blond vampire and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you want to be next?" Alex returned the smirk. "I'm sure the world would be much sadder without your lame-ass self."

"There's no need for any hostilities mate," Spike grinned and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag on the cancer-stick (for humans at least), then blew out a blue-grey stream of smoke. The cloud wafted towards Alex, irritating him. He still hated smoking.

Alex slowly circled Spike, always careful not to lose track of the vampire and his surroundings. He didn't know what Spike wanted, convinced that whatever it was it would be bad on a colossal scale.

"I take it the Slayer and her club of cheerleaders don't know you're here," Spike observed as he sat down on a tombstone giving the appearance of being harmless and benign.

Alex wasn't fooled into believing anything but the contrary. He knew that Spike was a killer, someone that should never be trusted. He was a Primordial after all, a demon that preyed upon the weak humans with no conscious.

"You should know," Alex said his tone dark. "You smell of her. Buffy still buying your weak as a kitten, poor me I've been chipped by the government act?"

"An act?" Spike looked offended. "Me and the Slayer are compatriots, fighters against the wrongs in the world. We are like Batman and Robin, we are."

"You're closeted homosexuals with daddy issues?" Alex retorted, not afraid of the vampire in the least. Back in the day, before Spike had gotten tagged by the commandos, Xander had had a very healthy fear of Spike, knowing that the demon was dangerous, ruthless, and a whole bunch of synonyms. Now they were meeting, not as equals – since it would be a cold day in Hell before any Kindred ever would consider a Primordial an equal, but on a more level playing field. While he was stronger than Spike, Spike did have more experience than he. They were a sort of yin and yang of the blood-drinking sort that would perpetually hate each other for all of eternity.

"Aren't you the witty one now that you got yourself a power up? Were you so jealous of us that mattered to the Slayer that you had to go out and get yourself a shiny power ring and cape? Desperate much are you whelp? Couldn't handle the feelings of insignificance in the larger picture, so you went out and convinced some high and mighty Kindred snob to bring you into the family? And now with this you, an almighty Kindred, lord over us lesser beings, hiding behind your rules, laws, and _morality_," he used air quotes with the word morality. "You prats like to pretend that you're above us, looking down your noses at us, preferring even the Brujah clan over us. At least we're honest about who we are and don't lie about our nature."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, you're the honest vampires of the world, my kind are posers. Thank God you're keeping it real. Are you done?"

"So why did you decide to join the fang club? I never would have pegged you to join up with a blood-club?"

"Oh, and what did you figure I'd do?" Alex retorted, wondering why he was even bothering with the verbal sparring.

Spike laughed. "You, I figured you to be killed by now, considering everything, though I am not too far off with that assessment, are I?"

"Considering what?" he asked, despite not caring. _Why in the hell am I listening to him? I don't care what William the bloody pain-in-the-ass thinks!_

"Are you serious?' Spike scoffed. "You with no powers were constantly rushing into battles that were way beyond your abilities to handle. Even Angelus couldn't believe how stupid you were standing up to him. Not to mention you were pretty worthless in the fight."

"Fuck you Spike. I didn't always rush into things, though maybe sometimes," he granted just a bit. "Anyhow, I wasn't ever worthless despite what others may have said. Just because I didn't kiss the almighty-Slayer's ass, didn't mean I was of no value to the Scoobies. Hello? Remember the Judge, graduation, getting Buffy to kill Angelus so your granddad couldn't end the world? Do any of those things ring a bell with you, not to mention getting my fair share of your kind chip-boy? At least they were able to put up a fight. What can you do besides be the Slayer's bitch?"

"I'm nobody's bitch," Spike snarled as he jumped up.

Alex saw the punch coming a mile away and was able to easily grab the fist in his hand, squeezing hard, feeling the tendons grinding on the bone. Tightening his grip, making sure that Spike wouldn't have full use of his hand for a while, he broke several finger bones and then pushed the Primordial back, sending him stumbling back several feet.

"Like you said Spike," Alex mocked the vampire, "I got a power-up. You might want to remember that."

"Bloody show off you are with your powers," Spike snarled, his face in full vampire-mode.

Alex was about to make a witty retort but was interrupted by himself. His face took on a blank look, his eyes glazed and unfocused. His voice clearly his own, but the words came from elsewhere. Undoubtedly, the lights were on but no one was home.

"The first among firsts will emerge, bringing terror from an open doorway between this reality and the next, destroying the ones that can balance between the light and dark. In the end, a sacrifice will be necessary; a chosen one destined to save humanity will give of themselves and be forever shown in the light."

Spike, for his part, immediately shifted out of his more fearsome visage. He stood there, staring at the Gangrel, confused. He was sure that he and the whelp were about to slug it out, but suddenly the fop went all still and blank and started speaking nonsense.

Suddenly, whatever had Alex in its grip, released him, causing him to fold and stumble. He would have collapsed entirely if Spike hadn't un-expectantly caught him, helping him to stand upright.

"What is hell were you yammering about? Portals and a sacrifice?" Spike yelled at the youth (while Xander may be Kindred, he was still younger than him).

"Not so fucking loud!" Alex hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping that would stop the blinding headache that was forming behind his eyes.

"What were you saying just now?" Spike demanded.

"What the hell are you talking about? And why in the hell are you holding me?" Alex asked opening his eyes and seeing Spike's arm looped under his arm, holding him up. He then shook off the offending limb and gingerly tested his legs on his own. Unfortunately, he wasn't ready for such a feat and found himself face down on the grass, getting intimate with sod, earthworms, and dirt.

Spike, sighing at the way his night had turned out to be. Originally, he had been cutting through the cemetery, on his way over to the Slayer's house for an evening of Passions and waiting for the Fox Soccer Report on Man U's match that day against Arsenal. Now he was standing in the cemetery having a bizarre conversation with the last person he ever expected to see. He briefly thought about kicking the sod in the ribs and continuing on with his evening festivities. Instead he rolled Xander over on to his back and gently nudged him in the ribs, hoping that would be enough to bring him around.

He was not to be disappointed and Alex immediately came around. "What the fuck happened?" he asked and slowly sat up.

"You passed out mate," Spike chuckled, amused to see the Gangrel a bit off.

"Why?" Alex asked testily. "What the hell happened?"

"Don't get your scanties in a twist. You started speaking like it wasn't you and then you snapped out of it and then took a dive like a striker from Liverpool."

"I'm going to pretend that I understood all of that," Alex said, shaking his head and wearily got to his feet. "I take it I went blank and started talking about something weird."

"Is this something that occurs a lot?" Spike asked, watching the kid carefully.

Alex shrugged. "It happened once before. Supposedly my brain somehow taps into something on the astral plane. A demon once called me the One Who Sees. I guess you could call me a seer, but it isn't something that happens a lot. Last time I supposedly started talking about a hell beast and the sacrifice of the innocents. We still don't know what that was about. What was I talking about this time?"

"Something about a first, destroying the ones who balance, and portals," Spike shrugged and lit another cigarette, having lost the previous one in his slight tussle with Xander.

"I hope you have an idea about what that means. Shit, I was warned about the dangers of being on the Hellmouth. Now my brain feels like it's been scrambled. I need to get my mom off this pile of crap ASAP."

"So are you leaving now? Are you going to stop by and see your old mates, play catch up?" Spike said, immediately returning to the verbal sparring that they had engaged in before. They had been too close, physically and feeling-wise for his comfort and preferred to fall back into the familiar pattern of sarcasm and biting wit.

Unfortunately for him, Alex wasn't up for it. "No. I don't want to see them and they don't need to see me. They're part of my past now."

"You sure," Spike pressed, knowing that Xander had no idea about Anya and the baby. "Maybe they've come into something big that you'd want to know about. I am sure your precious little Anya would love to see you."

Alex shook his head. "Anya doesn't need me and Buffy and the others would bring me nothing but more pain. They drove me away and now they get what they wanted. They don't need me in their lives and I sure as all hell don't need them. Plus, how would it look to have a member of the Kindred hanging around a Slayer? Probably about as weird as a Primordial hanging around a Slayer," Alex couldn't help himself, grinning at seeing Spike visibly bristle. He enjoyed getting under the vampire's skin.

"Yeah, well, sod off wanker," Spike said and started to turn away, finished with the whelp.

"Oh Spike, I forgot," Alex called out.

Spike turned around to fully face the Kindred and found a stake shoved deep into his gut. "Something is telling me that killing you wouldn't be the best thing to do, but this is for all of the shit you did to me when I was living here. Consider it a down payment for what will happen if I ever see you again."

With that, Alex disappeared into the night, taking with him all of his hurt, anger, and despair. It had been a rough night made even rougher by the appearance of that bastard Spike, but shoving his last stake in the jackass' stomach made him feel just a tad better.

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? Crap or not? Hit the shiny review button and let me know. 

Do you have any idea how hard it is it write in a working-class British voice when you are as American as baseball and apple pie without coming off as trite and retarded? I hope I didn't offend too many of the Brits out there and if I did, I am heartily sorry. Blame it on watching way too much of Man U, Tottenham, SkySports news, and the rest of the EPL and a few crappy sites I looked at for British slang expressions.

Also, I am sorry if my Batman and Robin comment offended anyone. It stems from a conversation between a co-worker and me about my action figures and her need to "violate" them by putting them in sexual positions for me to find when I come back from a day off. I of course am too mature to retaliate and mess with her crazy cat lady action figures (sure, whatever). Also, I am a big closet nerd who used to work at a comic book store and I would argue about the the proclivities of Batman with someone who would get so offended and couldn't tell I was just messing with him.

Anyways, thanks for reading and hopefully reviewing. I am pretty sure I have only one or two chapters left in this story before I refocus on NLTZ 3 and my Immortal Spacemonkey 2 (I have no idea what the real title will be for this one) stories. Take care and have a wonderful and blessed day.

Cheers!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language, violence, and mild gore

* * *

Chapter 7

He made his way out of the cemetery and loped through the town, making his way back to the car. Alex found his jacket and weapon where he had left them, grateful that they hadn't been stolen. They weren't precious to him, he just hated the idea that the wrong person or thing would have them in their possession.

He then went back to the car and started it up. Instead of putting it into gear, he let the engine run and he put his head down on the steering wheel, exhausted – not physically, but mentally. The night had taken a lot out of him. From dealing with his newly turned father, to meeting up with Giles, with killing the bastards that had killed and turned his father, and finally running into asshole-Spike, he was done in.

Resting there for a few minutes, listening to a random radio station play a nonsensical song about some guy on the phone with his ex while his current girlfriend was in the other room, he found a calmness, glad to be done with for the evening.

He drove around for a bit, not wanting to return to the house. He went out to the beach and parked the car at one of the roadside parking lots. He climbed out of the car and sat on the hood, relishing the silence from humanity surrounding him. He listened to the gentle pounding of the surf against the sand and rocks. He watched the reflection of the half moon dance across the rippling surface of the watcher.

Here he felt more relaxed, more at ease. _It's probably because I am technically outside of the city limit_s, he noted to himself, _far enough away from the Hellmouth itself._

There he sat for a couple of hours, enjoying the calm and quiet night. His better-than average eyesight allowed him to see the details surrounding him. He watched the foam of the ocean wash up on the shore; he was able to see a stray fish flop out of the water momentarily, creating tiny ripples in the flowing ocean water.

_I wonder where the swim team ended up or if they are even alive anymore,_ he briefly wondered, thinking back to his venture into extra-curricular activities that did not directly involve a crossbow and stake.

After awhile, he climbed back into the car and put it into gear and headed back to his mother's house. He didn't consider it to be his home anymore – that was wherever Emily was. Being with her, and the other Gangrels, was where he belonged, not on a stinking Hellmouth he knew. This place sucked ass and he wanted out. He so much hated being there that he briefly considered that being in a Sabbat controlled city or, hell, even in Garou country would be preferable than being on a gateway to Hell. The moment he crossed the city line, he could feel that oily, evil feel crawling across his skin. He hated that sensation.

Alex made it back to the house. He let himself in and checked on his mother. He found her still in bed, asleep, oblivious to the world around her. She had no idea what kind of night her son had had, and with any luck, she never would.

He picked up his bags and went downstairs to his old bedroom. While he didn't relish the idea of spending the night in the basement, he knew it would be preferable. Down there, he could make sure the tiny windows were blacked out so he wouldn't get burned by the morning sun's rays before he got a chance to feed.

He tossed the bags into a corner and put his wallet, watch, loose change, and the secreted weapons on his old nightstand, noting the layer of dust that coated the piece of furniture. It wasn't hard to believe that his parents hadn't been down in his old room since he had left.

As he drifted off to sleep, he prayed that he would be done with his business on the Hellmouth and wouldn't run into any more of the Scoobies. Running into Spike and to a much lesser extend, Giles, hadn't been pleasant. He wanted out and to be able to put Sunnydale completely behind him.

_XanderXanderXander_

Alex managed to catch a few hours of sleep, but they had been far from restful. His sleep had been plagued by dark and disturbing dreams. Through the chaos that was his mind, he got to relieve the death of Jesse, his romantic missteps, the terror that was Angelus, and the gang pushing him away more and more with each passing day. However, the dreams were more vivid and even more violent than they had been in reality. They left him soaked in a fine sheen of sweat and he woke up gasping for air.

He grabbed his watch off the nightstand and looked at the face. It read 6:13; he did the math and realized that he had only gotten three hours or so of sleep.

"I've had less. This won't kill me," he grumbled out-loud, and rubbed his face with his hands, hoping that the action would magically help him to wake up.

It didn't, so he hauled himself out of bed and literally crawled across his floor, doing his best to avoid the stray streams of dangerous sunshine that was leaking through the curtains.

He made his way over to his mini-cooler. Unzipping it, he took out a thermos. Unscrewing the cap, he drank from it deeply, enjoying the sensation of the blood running down his throat, filling him, giving him the strength and protection he needed to survive and be able to withstand the sun's rays.

Once he was done with his version of the breakfast of champions, he went upstairs to take a shower and get himself cleaned up. He was filthy from his fight with the asshole that had killed his dad and his mom didn't need to see the grass stains and streaks of dirt on his shirt, pants, and arms.

The shower felt good; the water soothing. He lathered up and scrubbed away the evidence that he had been in some sort of brawl.

As he was scrubbing his scalp and mindlessly singing a song to himself, he looked up and noticed that the water was spluttering and spurting oddly. Looking closer, peering at the showerhead, trying to figure out if it was a pressure issue or lime build-up on the attachment, the water gave way to a stream of crimson blood cascading down upon him.

While the idea of blood, lots of blood around him aroused his more vampire-like instincts, he knew that having blood come shooting out of a shower was a bad sign, especially in Sunnydale. Ignoring the tell-tale feel of his teeth sharpening and lengthening, ignoring the gnawing feeling deep within in him that screamed at him to drink, to take advantage of this occurrence, he blindly turned off the water, ending the macabre spray.

Alex yanked the curtain back and was taken by complete surprise by the figure of a young woman standing there in the pink and gold tiled bathroom, grinning at him, looking his naked form over like she was a hungry dog and he was prime rib.

"Can I help you?" Alex spluttered, surprised beyond belief. It wasn't everyday that a strange woman appeared in your bathroom.

"Did you like the shower?" she asked, her curly hair, swinging freely as she thoroughly checked him out. "I hope you did. I figured at the least it would catch your attention. By the way, that was the _worst_ rendition of _Psycho Killer_ I've ever heard. The Talking Heads would be ashamed of you for butchering their song."

Alex blinked and rubbed his eyes, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the blonde chick in the clingy red dress was some delusion or trick that his eyes were playing on him. It didn't work. She was still there, trailing a well-manicured hand along the vanity.

"Just who the fuck are you and why are you in my mom's bathroom? And quit ogling me. It's disturbing and kind of creepy," he coughed. Indeed, this chick had a creepy vibe that made his skin crawl and cause him to want to run far, far away.

"I'm Glory. Have you heard of me?" she asked her voice bright.

"No. Should I have?"

She looked momentarily put off. "I need better press agents."

"Why are you interrupting my shower? Shouldn't you be somewhere else that isn't my private time?"

"I'm just curious really," she said, her voice gentle but behind it was a will made of steel. "You're the one the others, the Slayer and her stupid friends call Xander right?"

"Yeah," he said cautiously.

"I'm just kind of curious about a couple of things. What is someone like you, a member of the Kindred doing back here? I heard a rumor last night that someone, a type of vampire was in town that normally would never come to a Hellmouth. I was able to trace the weird energies back to you and here we are!" she said brightly.

"Not that it's any business of yours, but I'm just back to get my mom moved out of this shit hole and some place a bit safer," he said, standing there as defiant as a naked man can be. "You said you had a couple of questions. What's your second one?"

"I lost my Key," she whined, looking put out. "Do you know where it is? I need it bad."

Alex stood there, his mouth agape. "You lost your key? You interrupt my shower because you lost your house key?"

"No you idiot! My Key! It's kind of mystical and glows and I need it." There had been a moment where pure rage passed across her feature. "I was hoping that as the Slayer's friend you would know where it is. She knows. I know she knows, but she's not telling."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he was hardly able to believe that he was having a conversation with an obviously crazy chick while he was naked, dripping with blood (which was continuing to call to his senses, teasing him). "Buffy and I haven't been friends in quite a while, for a few obvious and not so obvious reasons. I am only back to help my mom and then I am gone. I don't know anything about a key. Are we done here because I would like to finish my shower and continue to butcher Psycho Killer as you put it? Was it really that bad?"

"Horrible," she said, holding her head. Pure madness over came her and she came closer and shoved him into the tiled wall, cracking several of the tiles. She held him in place, her break far greater than any normal person's, stronger than his. "If I find out you're lying, I swear to all that is unholy I will hunt you down and feed you to the beasts of Hell."

"Good to know," Alex croaked, not enjoying the sensation of having his throat crushed.

As quickly as the madness over came her, it disappeared, replacing the violence with a sunny smile. "Okay then. But if you hear of it, let me know. Okay?" she said and let go of his neck.

"Sure. No problem," he said and suddenly realized that he was alone in the bathroom.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked out-loud.

_XanderXanderXander_

He and his mother spent the rest of the day getting the house settled. They contacted a real estate office that dealt with hard to sell property. An agent got them started on the necessary paper work it would take to sell the place, but promised to make the process as easy as possible. She also promised that they wouldn't have to be in town to finish the sale. Any necessary forms or whatnot could be mailed to his place in San Francisco or a local office in the city.

They also went to his father's office to collect anything personal that he might have left behind. There hadn't been much, but the one thing they took from the apologetic secretary was a picture of the three of them. It had been taken when Alex had been five. The three of them sat there, smiling at the camera, unaware of that the future would hold for them – before the alcoholism had ruined their family.

By the time they had finished with that task, his mother was exhausted. Alex drove her home and promised to see to the remaining tasks. He did ask her to start packing things she would need for the next several weeks, like clothes, anything of vital importance. He wanted to be out of the town by the next day and anything that wasn't necessary to life could wait to be packed up by professional movers. He also asked her to not drink, but deep down he knew that the grip of alcoholism was too tight; especially with the twisted influences of the Hellmouth all round, intensifying the desire to slowly kill herself through the bottle.

After dropping his mom off, he called Emily.

"Hello?" she sleepily asked, her voice sounding far away.

"Em? It's me," he said into the phone.

"Alex! Are you okay? What's wrong?" she asked, instantly awake.

"I'm fine. I need you to do a couple of things for me please."

"Sure! What do you need? Are you coming home soon? I worry about you being in that god-forsaken place," she rushed, anxiety making her talk faster than she normally did.

"I know. My goal is to be out of here by tomorrow. I need you to find a good storage place in the city some place to hold my mom's belongings. I don't care where as long as it is secure," he said.

"Consider it done. What else?"

"I need for you to find a good rehab place for my mom. Whatever it takes to get her in as quickly as possible," he informed her, his tone serious. "I'm pretty sure she's drinking right now even though I begged her not to, but I need to get things arranged quickly so we can get out of this fucking place quickly, so I can't watch her and stop her from slowly killing herself. It's unbelievable how evil this place is Emily. I am so glad you didn't come. You'd be going crazy being here. Hell, I could be nuts myself right now. I've had some of the most bizarre encounters and one of them took the prize for utter weirdness."

He could here Emily sigh. Alex could imagine her sitting there in their bed, a sheet wrapped around her naked, lithe figure. The imagery alone caused him to groan, wishing he was there with her, her body pressed into his, her legs entwined with his, teasing him in all the right ways.

"Get your work done so you can be out of there at first light. I'll find a place to take your mom and you can tell me all about it when you guys get here. She might be here for a day or two so I'll go grocery shopping," she offered. "We'll work it out."

Alex smiled, loving her even more than he already did. He knew that having a human staying with them might be a bit problematic, but she was willing to have her stay with them anyways. "You are the best, you know it?"

Emily smiled into the phone. "Yeah well, you're pretty awesome yourself. Not many Kindred would risk going on to a Hellmouth for a human, even if the human in question was their mother. I wouldn't have. I hope your mom - once she dries out, will see how great you are."

"Thanks," Alex said, feeling a bit embarrassed at the praise. "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too. Come home soon," Emily said and then hung up, determined to do her part in helping her best friend and lover help his mother.

Alex also hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and started up the car. He had lots of errands to do and the day was only getting shorter.

_XanderXanderXander_

By the time the night had rolled around, he was exhausted. He had found a company that would pack up and move his mother's possessions up to San Francisco. They said it would probably take a week or two to get it done, but he said it would be fine and that he would have a place to store everything by then. He also contacted his parent's attorney (they may have been alcoholics, but that didn't mean they were totally incompetent), who promised to see to the handling of his father's estate. He then called the utilities and arranged to have the services disconnected at the end of the month. He also went over to Newcomer's Funeral Home and picked up the "remains" of his father. He had been busy all day long, taking care of things necessary to get his mother and himself out of town.

The whole day pretty much sucked, but the biggest downer had occurred when he stopped at the gas station across the street from a coffee shop that he remembered that Willow and Buffy had liked to frequent.

He saw Willow come out of the store.

She looked fine physically, her red hair glistening in the sun, her pale skin flawless. However, even over a hundred feet away, he could tell that something was off. It wasn't just the waves of jangled energy that was coming off her, indicating that she was probably still abusing magic, tapping a negative power source – probably the Hellmouth itself he judged, noting how wrong it felt.

What Alex picked up on was how distressed the witch was, like she was facing a foe of immense power and didn't know what to do next. She looked lost and afraid of what the future held.

There was a part of him that wanted to run to her, to find someway of comforting her, of reassuring her that somehow they would find away of beating back the big bad that was coming at her and the Scoobies. He wanted to go to her and do whatever it took to erase the frown lines from her face, even if it meant doing the Snoopy dance. He wanted to be there for his old friend in the worst way, but he knew that it wasn't possible. He was Kindred now and his loyalty had to lay with his kind and do everything in his power to uphold the Masquerade. Running over to Willow, no matter how good his intentions would be, would surely destroy that and more.

Instead he stood there unnoticed, watching his old friend walk down the street, absently sipping from a cup of coffee, lost in her thoughts, alone.

He also wondered where Tara was; hoping that the blonde witch was okay. Willow and Tara, once they had gotten together had been practically attached at the hip. Where there was one, there was the other. It wasn't right seeing Willow without Tara, he decided.

He had always liked Tara. The girl, woman, had always been kind and caring, even while the others had been biting and rude. He hoped that nothing had happened to her. It would be a shame, in his mind, if Tara was no longer in the world.

_XanderXanderXander_

The next day, after an incident-free shower, Alex had the car loaded up with his mother's suitcases and his mother. He had come home and found his mother drinking, again. He wanted to yell at her, wanted her to see what she was doing to herself, but he knew that all the yelling, all the screaming in the world wouldn't help her. She needed help and maybe being away from the Hellmouth would help loosen the grip alcohol had on her.

So instead of being outright pissed, he gently took the bottle of vodka away from her and helped her to bed. He noted that her suitcases were barely packed. After he got her to bed and she passed out, he completed packing up her clothes, the little jewelry she possessed, and some of the pictures she kept on the night stand.

As he was going through her belongings, packing up what was immediately necessary and important he found a photo album of him nestled in a bottom drawer. He took it out and leafed through it, glancing at the pictures. He saw his baby pictures, his first day of kindergarten, baseball team photos, junior high, his senior prom picture of him and Anya (which he had no idea how his mom had gotten a hold of that one). Also, in the back was a picture of Willow, Buffy, Cordelia, Oz, and him. Originally, he had kept the picture framed by his bedside when he had lived at home. His mother must have taken it from there and put it in this album that chronicled his life. It showed that despite the neglect, she cared about his life and milestones.

He remembered that this picture, the one taken their senior year by Mark Livas, one of the photographers for the yearbook. They had all been sitting around underneath one of the trees just off campus, eating lunch, looking like any normal, tight-knit group of high school kids. He and the others had asked Mark for a copy of the picture.

Back then, it had been a much simpler, happier time for him while in Sunnydale. Granted they had to deal with the non-stop threat of impending doom, but things had been less complicated. They were friends, bonded through disasters and tragedy, thinking that nothing would ever come between them. Instead, they eventually pulled away from each other, physically and/or emotionally, everyone going their own way. Maybe it was what was meant to be, maybe it was just the natural result of life happening. However, the bond they all had ended, leaving them to find their own niche in life.

Looking at he had an urge to rip it up, destroying evidence that he had been friends with the Slayer and the others, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't want to obliterate proof that he had a life and friends before becoming Kindred.

Instead he put the album to the side, leaving the picture, intending to keep this memento intact, knowing that Emily would love to see it.

After that, he finished packing up his mother's belongings. He then went down the hall to the spare bedroom where his parents kept a safe. He didn't have the combination, but with a bit of effort, he was able to break into the box and retrieve important and crucial paperwork. He glanced through it, finding his birth certificate in the small stack and put it with his photo album. The rest he put in a folder to go through at a later point with his mother.

Alex wandered through the house, checking to see if there was anything else that needed taken care of. He cleaned out the refrigerator, boxed up the canned and dry goods. Those he took down to the local church for its food pantry.

On his way back to the house, he had a run in with a couple of garden variety vampires. Staking them, he continued on his way, whistling a jaunty tune.

He didn't get much sleep that night, but was pretty satisfied that he had accomplished what he had set out to do. His mother was moving off the Hellmouth, he didn't have a run-in with Buffy or Willow, and he had survived his few days on the Hellmouth. Granted the reason he came back sucked, but he was glad that he was able to come back and take care of his mother and prevent her from ending up like his father.

At 7:00am he bundled his mother into the car. He was tired, but fortified with the last of his supply of blood, ready to make the long drive back to his home, back to Emily.

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? Be a pal and hit the shiny review button and let me know.

This chapter did not want to stop. There were several things that I wanted to do and this chapter, which I originally had thought would be maybe a couple of pages, grew out of control. As a result, I had to stop it here before it got too out of control. Anyways, I hope you find it to be satisfactory and doesn't disappoint. There is one more chapter to this story and I hope it will answer a couple of questions that some people have asked. I am hoping to get it out sometime this week since I will be out of town next week.

Ariskari: I am glad you endorse my dig at Liverpool, whom I really don't like all that much, being a Man U (I know - I have issues) and Tottenham fan myself (not to mention my beloved KC Wizards).

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. You know I appreciate it!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, KTE, or any recognizable characters from either show. If I did, I wouldn't be working for the public schools system. Any characters you may not readily recognize are mine to use and abuse. I promise to return the character of Xander and other characters from the shows once I am done, though they might be a bit scuffed when I do.

Warning: potty language

* * *

Epilogue

Rupert Giles sat there in the back store room, surrounded on all sides by piles of books, some written before the _Magna Carta_ had been conceived. They were all thick and leather bound. The pages were yellowed with age and written in several different languages, including a few that weren't human.

He had spent, of and on, the twenty-four plus hours looking up something that Xander had said when they literally ran into each other at the city morgue after Xander had been forced to stake his own father.

His shirt was un-tucked and wrinkled. Several ceramic mugs devoid of tea or coffee formed a wall between him and the world, testifying that he hadn't gotten much sleep and was running on caffeine at this point. He knew that he should just let it go, but what Xander had dropped in his lap was too intriguing for him to ignore.

The boy had referred to the vampires as Primordials. That alone had triggered a distant memory in him. He knew that he had heard of that particular title before.

Finally, after looking through several books, he found an entry in a book, written entirely in Latin, with the title of A Concise History of Non-humans and the Forces of Darkness, by Orris Roemello.

In the book he found a listing of terms for vampires. While most of the list was nothing new, the word Primordial was listed and next to it was a brief description of where the word came from.

According to A Concise History of Non-Humans and the Forces of Darkness, the term Primordial is used by Kindred when referring to a vampire demon, thus demarcating the difference between them and lesser beings. These discoveries lead to another extensive search for the term Kindred.

Finally, a couple of hours later, he came across a description of what the Kindred were and several of the clans that made up the society known as Kindred.

Giles just about dropped the book. The beings described were vampires. There were some notable differences between the Kindred and the monsters that Sunnydale was all too familiar with.

The Kindred formed a society among humans, moving among them but always remaining distant and hidden. They were divided into clans, and areas were controlled by an individual known as the Prince. Despite their more tribal tendencies, they lived by rules that were designed to protect them and hide them from humanity. Also, while they did drink blood, as noted in the book, they retained their human soul, unlike the demon-vampires, also known as Primordials among the Kindred.

There was a bit more about the Kindred and the clans that made up this hidden world. While it was informative, Rupert knew that he needed more information about this secret society and Xander's place in it. He did not doubt for a minute that Xander was somehow mixed up with these soul-possessing vampires, but he couldn't see the boy actually joining up with them. It seemed out of character for him to have done so. He couldn't conceive of any reason that would make Xander want to join up with these creatures, soul or no soul.

He saw for himself that Xander had changed in the past year. The youth was powerful, possessor of some kind of magic. Giles had literally felt waves of power, wild and natural, coming off Xander. It was raw, but potent and purer, as if he was tapping into a power source that hadn't been corrupted by evil. He wondered where the boy had come into that kind of talent, for he was fairly certain that Xander did not have any sort of magical ability when he had left. He told himself that if he had seen any evidence that Xander had the potential to work magic, he would have trained the boy himself.

_Maybe it was always there, but the energies of the Hellmouth had blocked this natural ability_, he told himself. _I wouldn't have let the boy go at it alone_.

_Who am I kidding? I didn't even bother to look. I was always wrapped up with the Slayer and all of her issues and later trying to teach Willow how to control her magic. I ignored Xander, dismissing him and his contributions to the group,_ Giles thought regretfully, self-flagellating himself for being somewhat narrow minded in his views towards Xander Harris.

Giles wanted more information about these people and what Xander was really up in San Francisco. He felt that he owed Xander and had to make sure he was happy and safe. The boy had been like a son to him at time, granted an annoying and irritating son at times, but he too quickly dismissed him once Xander had left the town and the Slayer behind. Giles wanted to make sure Xander knew what he was getting into, whatever that may be.

Sighing, he extracted himself from his fortress of solitude and went into the small office that was off to the side. At the desk, he flipped through his rolodex, looking for the phone number of a friend that lived in the city.

Finding it, he rapidly dialed the number and waited impatiently for John at Crystal Way to pick up the phone. He wanted answers to his questions.

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? Crap or not? Be a pal and hit the shiny review button and let me know. I offer cookies and milk for doing so. Don't think of it as a bribe, but as a generous offer that you can't refuse (to butcher/paraphrase the Godfather).

Does Giles know? Will he find out about Xander's place within Kindred society? I am hoping that this will be fully answered in NLTZ 3, which I am planning to start posting the week after next (I'll be on vacation in the meantime). Thanks for sticking with me and reading this smaller ficlet of mine. I had to write and post this to kill the plot bunny that was annoying the crap out of me.

Also, before I forget, there is no Orris Roemello and accompanying book. Also, there is a store in San Francisco called the Crystal Way, but "John" is just a product of my weird imagination. Finally, if you don't know what the Magna Carta is, you should be ashamed.

In the meantime, take care and have a wonderful and blessed day.

Cheers!


End file.
